Love

Love bade me welcome; yet my soul drew back,
Guilty of dust and sin.
But quick-ey'd Love, observing me grow slack
From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning
if I lack'd anything.

A guest, I answer'd, worthy to be here:
Love said, "you shall be he".
I the unkind, ungrateful: Ah, my dear,
I cannot look on thee.
Love took my hand, and smiling did reply,
"Who made the eyes but I?"

Truth Lord, but I have marred them: let my shame
Go where it doth deserve.
"And know you not," says Love, "who bore the blame?"
My dear, then I will serve.

"You must sit down," says Love, "and taste my meal."
So I did sit and eat.

-George Herbert, 1593-1632